Doom the Homeland
by Greenfrie
Summary: As of chapter seven, Doom the Homeland has, without any explanation, become a superreligious fanfic.
1. Prolouge

**Doom the Homeland**

_Welcome, young and old, to another screwed up one-shot. I don't own Harvest Moon, which, if you read my other HM fic, is pretty damn obvious. BTW: If the part about the dog seems weird, my algebra teacher tells a similar tale…with squirrels._

Jack stared into the hazy pasture of his dead grandfather's farm. The once-lively ranch was silent, almost mimicking the death of his ancestor. All the horses and cows that once populated the land were shipped away in the blink of an eye.

Taped to a tree was a torn-up slip off paper with "To Jack" scribbled on the back. The young man ripped it savagely from the tree, leaving a bit still attached firmly to the tree.

_Dear Jack,_

_Gotta write this quick—I'm on the run. Killed a CEO; long story. Since Grandpa died, I want you to take care of what's left of the farm. The place will be torn down for a new theme park in a year, but it's not like you can't make a few bucks of farming, (possibly for my bail…), eh? Go live there anyway. Seeya._

_--Dad_

Yes, of course Jack's father was in a mafia. The young man put his hand on his "Toy" baseball cap, which was stolen from a security guard from Toy Corporation. He even had to grow a ponytail so the police wouldn't recognize him as the son of a wanted criminal.

"Idiot," muttered Jack, crumbling the letter in his palm. "But I guess it is true. Eventually I'll need a place to stay."

Suddenly, he jumped up in shock. He heard mumbling coming from behind the old, abandoned barn.

Immediately, the farmer dashed around the farm. It could be the cops! What if his grandfather was also leading a life of misdeeds? What if this whole farm was just a place for the old man to hide drugs?

The boy finally reached the back of the barn, where a group of elves were gathered. Two were thin, one wearing a blue coat and the other wearing a red one. The other was obese and wearing a hideous yellow raincoat.

"What…? Oh no! I was right, and all the drugs buried on this farm are starting to make me hallucinate!"

But the young man refused to believe that he was a drug addict. Women don't date drug addicts… well, smart women, anyway. Jack placed his hand on top of an elf's head. The creature gasped, since he wasn't usually grabbed on the top of his skull by a giant.

"What? How can you see us?" The blue elf was shaking in terror.

"Could it be that this is the pure hearted young lad destined to save our home?" asked the red elf. "Or at least some idiot we can con into doing it for us?"

"Maybe. Or he's just on a lot of drugs." The other thin elf turned to Jack, who was kneeling to be at eye level with him. "You see, our home's going to be destroyed. As Harvest Sprites, we cannot be killed by the bulldozers' fury. But we keep our stuff in this underdeveloped little town, so we want it saved."

"I think he's a great choice," a melodious female voice added.

Everyone turned around to see a young woman with long, braided purple hair floating in front of them. She smiled and blinked her eyes, which were also purple.

"Hello," she greeted. "I am the Harvest Goddess. I live in the Harvest Goddess lake."

"Funny, I thought the Kappa lived there," Jack muttered sarcastically. The Harvest Goddess ignored him.

"Our home is in danger of being turned into an amusement park. I could always move somewhere else, but those employees have terribly dark hearts." The goddess's eyes filled with tears. "When I was five, I was on the bumper cars… and… and… the seatbelt was broken… AND THEY WOULDN'T FIX IT!" Waves of tears poured from her face. "Well, now that I've opened up some emotional scars, can you answer a few questions for me?"

"Um, sure…" muttered Jack. _I hope none of the villagers hear me talking to these imaginary friends I've been plagued with…_

"Okay, you just found an abandoned puppy on the ground. What do you do: take it home or ignore it?"

Before Jack could say he would take the puppy home with him, an extremely inconvenient flashback consumed his mind.

_A young Jack was skipping merrily down the streets of a largely populated city. After passing several hot dog carts and hobos, he found a large, black, hairy dog sitting near a billboard. The dog approached him and began to beg._

_The little boy searched his pockets, but there were no dog treats. The dog sniffed his pocket. Nothing. Angrily, the dog revealed a pistol clenched in his teeth._

_The gunshot echoed through the city as Jack fell to the ground in pain. It would take four hours for somebody to notice him…_

"That goddamn dog!" Jack shouted. "I hope it burns in-"

"Okay, I get it…" the goddess said, smiling despite his evil-sounding statement. "Next question: you find money on the grou-"

"WHERE?" the young man exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "TELL ME! TELL MEEEE!"

"I guess you have no intention of returning it to the owner." The divine being floated over to her imp minions. "So, guys, what do you think?"

"This guy's a villain!" insisted the blue sprite, Nak.

"A real bastard!" Flak, the fat one, said. "He'll probably kill all the villagers and eat them!" He paused for a second. "Mmm… villagers…"

"Well I think he's honest," the Harvest Goddess argued. "JACK!" she shouted, causing him to jump up in surprise. "Are you thinking about whether or not you should save us?"

"No…"

"Are you just staring at my chest?"

"…Yes…" he admitted.

"That's blasphemy!" Nik, who, by process of elimination, was the red one, shouted. "We can't let him-"

"If he even wanted to kill everyone and conquer the land, he would admit it. He never realizes the consequences of being so honest."

"So you're praising his stupidity?"

"…" She ignored the sprite and resumed talking to Jack. "So, Jack, will you take the farm and the responsibility of saving the town along with it?"

The boy began to consider the task of resurrecting an old farm and saving the community from certain destruction. Then again, if he defied a being of incredible power like this Harvest Goddess, he would probably face certain destruction.

"Why not."

"Looks like you doomed the homeland…" muttered Nik.


	2. A Mission Begins

_Thanks to the positive reviewers, I have decided to extend the fic! Yippee hurray (…think about the brainwash scene in _Zoolander. _You'll get it.)! And if the prologue was screwed up, remember: I've still got more insane ideas left. ) The names in the soap opera scene were stolen from La Madrastra. I never saw too much of it, but I've seen some of it on "The Soup". Anyway, enjoy!_

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter One: A Mission Begins**

Jack was laying in bed, quivering in fear. He was having a dream that the Harvest Goddess was killing him by sending electricity through every cell of his body. But remember, it was only a dream.

After all, the sprites and whatnot were all just dreams, right? Well, it would be easier on Jack if it was.

The young man immediately jumped out of bed, sweating in terror. He was breathing rapidly, as the electric-shocking fairy woman disappeared from his mind. The nightmare was gone, and all was right with the world.

Sigh, they don't pay us narrators enough to lie. "Wait a minute…"

Jack's plasma TV, his hot tub, his solid gold couch, it was all gone! All that was here was a crappy bookshelf, a TV engraved with hieroglyphics, and a dangerously unstable bed. Shocked, the young man ran outside, only to the farm of his dead grandpa.

"NO!" Jack shouted, yelling into the clouds. "Why am I here? I thought I just had too much to drink one night…"

Suddenly, and incontinently, the trio of gnomes appeared in front of him. "We're baaaaack…" they said synchronously.

"Get the hell away from me," spat Jack, hoping that he at least brought his shotgun with him.

"All we wanted to do was give you a tour of your new farm," muttered Nak.

"Don't you see that he's going crazy?" Nik said to his friend. "Maybe he just needs some time to deal with the fact that he can see elves and that he'll never get a girlfriend because he's stark raving mad."

The boy reached for a backpack he saw laying in the dirt. All that was there was a rusty watering can, a hoe, a pack of seeds from fifty years ago, and a sickle. A good ol', razor sharp, illegal in two major nations sickle.

With a grin on his face, Jack jumped into the air. In a gravity-defying leap, he ended up on top of the chicken coop. The sprites stared at the empty space where Jack was. In a few seconds, they realized he was gone.

That was enough time for the enraged male to jump down onto the exact location of the sprites. With a swift slashing motion, a bloodbath began.

* * *

In a few minutes, the Harvest Goddess floated onto the pasture. At that time, Jack was strangling Nik and threatening him with his scythe. 

"Jack?"

Jack recognized the female voice and dropped the Harvest Sprite onto the ground. Nik ran up to the goddess, breathing quickly.

"Goddess, this madman tried to murder us! And just because we said people may find him a bit odd… And because we made the soil half as fertile as it once was just to spite him… And because we told his girlfriend in the city that he was gay…"

"You did those last two things too?" spat the angry young man, about to split the sprite in two.

"I think he's just acting tough," injected the Harvest Goddess, causing Jack to stop the blade right in front of Nik's stomach. "Deep down, he's just a teenage boy who wants the villagers to respect him. He thinks being tough is the only way to do that."

"Er…sure…" said Jack, dropping the sickle onto the dirt. "That's definitely it." He gave an obviously fake grin. "I'll just be digging in the soil for now."

"Good luck!" the goddess said cheerfully before floating away. The nervous sprites followed her closely.

The young man sighed in relief, then he picked a hoe from his backpack, along with a bag of seeds. He poured them into his palm, almost expecting the ancient seeds to break into dust.

Groaning, he dropped the seeds into soil that was eroded by his fight with the Harvest Sprites. He swiped another area of soil with the hoe, causing a large chunk of copper to fly out and into the air. Jack ran towards it and placed it in his backpack, then ran off into the town.

* * *

The farmer saw a simple looking house with a giant pile of garbage. Jack walked inside, only to see a scientist with long black hair and glasses sitting behind the counter. 

"Hi, I'm Louis," the man greeted. "This is the tool shop."

The shop owner's eyes became focused on Jack's legs. Suddenly, he remembered that he ran out of bed undressed.

"What an annoying cliché, eh?" Jack muttered. "Do you have any idea where I can buy clothes?"

"Do I look like I'd know? Luckily, a hobby of mine is stealing sets of clothes from people." Louis tossed some clothes identical to Jack's other ones.

"Er… thanks…" he said, not wanting to question Louis's kleptomania. "Shouldn't you clean up the huge pile of useless crap outside?"

"Fucking environmentalists," the man muttered.

Jack ran.

* * *

Nearby, the young man entered another building, decorated by the garden outside it. Inside was a beautiful, pink haired woman standing behind the counter. She smiled and approached him. 

"Hi, I'm Lyla!" she greeted cheerfully. "You must be Jack, the guy I was told about, right?"

"Yeah…" he replied, staring at her pink hair. Like many (…well, a few, anyway) people in the world, he had a weakness for pink hair. "I'm here to stop the construction."

"Er… good luck, I guess." She was still smiling. "Do you need any plant seeds? Flowers? Hair dye?"

"Um… some tomatoes, I guess." Jack dropped a few gold coins on the counter and took a crimson bag of seeds from the florist.

"Come again!"

As he left, Jack immediately shouted, "Pink haired women! Crazy-ass blacksmiths! I love this place…"

* * *

The young man walked by into a building with a board hanging near the side. Inside was an older, mustached man. 

"Hello, I'm Ronald," he greeted. "You're Tony's grandson, eh?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I'm Jack. I'll be taking over the farm."

"I was a close friend of his," Ronald recalled, stroking his chin. "Tony, and that son of his… I was this close to being caught with ten illegal firearms, but they…well… 'fixed' that problem."

The farmer began to sweat nervously, then slowly inched away from him, until he finally ran away in panic.

"Pink haired women, crazy-ass blacksmiths, and now supermarket owning mobsters…"

Ronald burst into laughter. "Oh, my wife always told me not to joke like that, bless her soul." He turned around, only to see that the young farmer was gone. "Eh, I'll tell him I was joking some day."

* * *

A rugged looking man wiped tears from his eyes as he stared at the television. At the time, a Spanish soap opera was airing. He took a cardboard box of tissues to help him dry his eyes. 

"How could you, Demetrio…?" he sobbed, blowing his nose. "You and Rosa can never go back to how it was in the first season now…"

Suddenly, Jack pushed open the split doors, causing them to swing back and forth. Immediately, the man fired a pistol and the television set, causing dozens of sparks to light up the building.

"What do you want?" the owner of the building spat. "This is the Brownie Farm, an' I'm the owner, Bob."

"Hi, I'm Jack," the other farmer replied, not afraid of the gun-brandishing man. "I'm a new farmer."

"I take it you may want to do some part-time work?" Bob said, still acting like a tough guy. "Pays well, but be warned: the last guy screwed up, and no one found the body yet."

"Um, you're knitting a sweater," Jack pointed out, causing Bob to sigh and place it under his desk. "But I'll take the job anyway."

"Yeah, no one falls for it." The Brownie Farm owner sighed and pointed to the door. "You're hired."

Jack left, while the older man picked up his TV set and frantically tried to repair it before Bruno and Alba's big wedding.

* * *

The young man stared at the vast fields. Happy horses were galloping merrily, and a single cow was gleefully joining them. And then Jack kicked a rock forward, causing it all to shatter. 

"Damn holograms," he muttered. (I could have inserted another flashback here, but really, would you really want to know what the hell happened? I think not.)

The pasture before him was almost a contradiction of everything he saw. The horses all had eye patches and cigars. The one cow that was there was hiding in the corner, shivering in fear of the equine mob. Jack shuddered.

"What the heck have I gotten myself into?" he said to himself, shaking his head. "I'll never survive here. Give me one reason to keep this job of tending to these..."

Suddenly, a beautiful girl with purple eyes and blonde hair in a ponytail walked by.

"HI, I'M JACK! WHERE DO YOU LIVE?"

The young woman turned around in confusion. "Oh, you're Jack, the farmer guy." She looked somewhat angry at just about everything. "I'm Gwen."

"Yep," he replied. "But I think I have to quit this job, 'cause it looks like the horses will--"

"I just love animals, don't you?" Gwen asked, ignoring Jack's utter paranoia.

"YES!" Jack responded, acting enthusiastic even though he was afraid of a few horses. "Now that you know I like animals too, will you date me?"

She ignored the last sentence. "I'm glad that there's another farmer now. I can see even more animals at your place."

The young man was overjoyed. That meant she would visit him.

"Oh yeah, and one more thing…" she added, getting closer and closer to Jack. He blushed, anticipating a kiss. "Once this year is over, I'll be stuck living in the city for the rest of my life, and I'll never see any animals again. So if you let even _one_ of them die, I swear to the goddess that they'll find you floating in the pond with your skull broken."

"Wow…" droned Jack. "She'll visit me at my farm…"

Then he began working, because Gwen might kiss him if he became a successful farmer.

…

Just let him have his impossible dream, okay, people?

* * *

**Next time on Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland: Lost in the Wilderness**

_Jack's first day in town still isn't over! After finishing his part time job at the ranch, the farmer wanders around for several hours, trying to find where the hell he is. And Jack has already met girls with purple and pink hair, but what about blue…?

* * *

_

I love my reviewers. You gave me the inspiration to continue this.

**lscgal- **_Yes, and here it is! Thanks for reviewing._

**Erin-** _I'm happy that you enjoyed it. I'll keep writing it as long as I still have some ideas. And with my hyperactive imagination (or overactive, either works), it should last a while._

**Kairi7- **_You have just given me one of my favorite reviews EVER. If you review again, can you please inform me of what is weirder than dogs with guns (I'm afraid yet fascinated at the same time...)._


	3. Lost in the Wilderness

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Two: Lost in the Wilderness**

With the gold coins he was paid and the milk that he probably should have given Bob but didn't in his hands, Jack was ready to go home. After all, the afternoon was starting to convert into night, and he would have to get home and get some rest before the sprites could do something weird to him.

But Jack was unfamiliar with this town. Heck, he didn't even know its _name_. Getting to his new home would be a difficult task.

At first, the fact that he was lost didn't occur in his mind. The young man just looked at the squirrels running around and picked up poisonous-looking berries to sell and flowers that he could use as gifts.

Then an hour passed. Jack decided to make a simple dinner for himself- a cluster of purple berries and the stolen milk. Apparently, the combination triggered an allergic reaction, causing him to vomit every minute for the next hour and a half.

By eight o'clock, Jack was almost too weak to move. He struggled to pull his tired body across through the wilderness. It was almost pitch black, causing him to squint every time he tried to find any humans.

"Please, Harvest Goddess…" Jack muttered in prayer, holding his hands together. "If you help me find civilization, I'll try to be a better person… Ah, screw it. You're probably sleeping right now."

* * *

Jack was right. The Harvest Goddess was sound asleep underwater, clutching her childhood teddy bear. And her childhood was about three hundred years ago, so the bear was beginning to decompose.

* * *

Back in the woods, Jack was sitting on a stump. Since all the berries made him sick, he would have to forage for something else. 

By rubbing two sticks together, he eventually started a fire. Now he could finally see what was in front of him- a confusing mass of trees and bushes. Everything was covered in fungus, so that meant nothing was edible.

He groaned, rubbing his empty stomach. All the plants were covered in that weird, purple fuzz. But, suddenly, a squirrel dashed past him. And as if a gift from the Harvest Goddess Herself, a dart dropped into Jack's palm.

The farmer closed his hand and grinned. He closed his eyes to detect the squirrel's movements with The Force (IE: he just guessed) and tossed the dart through the air.

The squirrel was hit, but not fazed by it at all. The enraged mammal zoomed through the forest, aiming to hit its attacker.

"Gyaugh!" exclaimed the young man, desperately trying to hit the squirrel away. It took about seven minutes for him to do that.

Jack ran far away from the squirrel. However, what he didn't know was that beneath all the leaves and bushes, his small fire was still lit…

* * *

An older teenage girl with a solemn expression and short black hair stood inside a mansion. As an orange glow from outside blurred her vision, she moaned. 

"GINA!"

"What is it?" a quiet, female voice asked from another room.

"There's some kind of fire outside. I can't stand around looking like a stereotypical, rich, angst-filled teenager with fire messing up my vision. Put it out."

"Yes ma'am!" the other young woman answered dutifully and enthusiastically.

* * *

The young farmer was lying on the forest floor, breathing heavily. Several miscellaneous mammals dashed past at supersonic speeds. He'd never be able to match their speed, let alone hunt one. He grabbed a rock that was securely fastened to the ground and pulled himself across the ground once more. His brown eyes were almost closed, and he was about to faint any minute. 

Suddenly, his extraordinarily weak legs felt his pants ablaze. The fire that he had no idea where it came from (in other words, the one he started and left to consume the forest in an inferno) was still raging!

"Oh, damn it all." He sighed and paused for a moment, considering the effects that his actions would cause to the environment. Then he realized that his friggin pants were on fire. "SCREW IT!"

Surely Lyla and Gwen would hate that he could have possibly wiped out every form of life that inhabited the woodland, but his futile attempts to extinguish the hellish blaze that spread across his trousers. He tried to stop, drop, and roll, but the ground was on fire. If he perished, this stupidity would surely earn him a Darwin Award.

"Hmm?"

Jack heard a gentle, female voice from behind a plant. He walked over to see that there was a cerulean-haired girl sitting behind it. Her brown eyes, which were behind large glasses, were focused on him. Apparently, she was spying on him.

"H-h-hello, sir."

This girl was probably the only sane human who would call an idiotic rancher who set an entire forest on fire "sir". Jack tilted his head, causing his burning ponytail to set the bush the girl was sitting behind on fire.

"Darn it," she muttered, brushing the fire off her dress. "Are you oka…?"

The farmer was being incinerated alive.

* * *

Jack's eyes opened slowly. He found himself lying on the floor in a large mansion with large staircases and well-decorated rooms surrounding him. 

"Wow, it's just like Dad's house… until the police repossessed the stolen items." He blinked and walked into the kitchen.

An elderly woman was busy cutting carrots. Her blue hair was fading and her face was covered in wrinkles. Jack immediately ran over.

"Martha?" he asked. The old woman turned to him. "It's me, Jack! You used to work for my family, remember?"

"Who?" she asked, her memory vanishing every moment.

"My dad was the scary looking mafia guy. He kept on hiding former business associates drenched in blood and bullet holes in the forest."

"Oh, you people!" She smiled. "I thought that you were still serving a life sentence for that… you know… 'incident'."

"No…" he said, uncomfortable with her accusing him of homicide. "You must be confusing me with my father…"

"I never do that," Martha insisted, then ignored the young man to finish her chores.

Suddenly, Jack's eyes opened wide when he felt someone's hand touch is shoulder. He turned around to see the same blue haired girl that he encountered back in the forest. Instantly, his memories of his old life were brought back.

"Wait a minute… Gina?"

"You know me, sir?" she asked politely, yet slightly confused.

"We used to play together when we were kids," he recalled. "I was the boy who had to leave because his father was banned from the state, remember?"

"JACK!" she exclaimed, forgetting her introverted nature for a brief moment. "It's good to see you again, sir."

"Gina, what are you doing?" a female's voice interrupted her, causing Gina to flinch and turn around.

"H-hello, Dia," she responded, her voice full of respect and terror.

"Oh, damn, you're unharmed." The teenage girl with short black hair stepped out of the shadows. "I thought it would be funny to send you into that hellish place and struggle to saturate the flames." She glanced outside, only to see the fire spreading at a deadly rate. "I see that you couldn't comprehend that, you imbecile."

"I-I was trying to rescue Jack," Gina insisted. "I forgot that our village was in danger for a second."

"Oh, that's okay," Dia said. "I'll just order you to run off a mountain and then this problem will be complete. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said. "I will at once."

The farmer had a perplexed expression on his face. "Um, you do realize that this chick is trying to kill you, right?" he commented.

"It's all in the contract my idiot father signed, sir," she muttered, before returning to her respectful tone. "I'll go now, ma'am."

"You wouldn't--!" he shouted at the other girl.

"Spare me," she said calmly, before revealing a piece of paper. "Section two states that I can tell her to do whatever the hell I want. That was pretty much the whole contract."

"But that's not human!" he insisted.

Dia's eyes flashed bright red for a second, but the farmer missed that. Since he wasn't paying attention to that, Jack was caught completely off guard when a black beam sent him hurtling out through the wall.

Soon, another beam exploded next to his head before he could even say a word. Jack jumped to his feet, then ran far away to his home.

* * *

After scampering as hastily through the burning forest as humanly possible, the farmer was faced with a decision. He could either return to his new home, go to sleep, and hope that he would return to his real home. Or, instead, he could go to the bar, waste the little money he got from the job at the other farm, and get so drunk that he would start to go even more insane. 

Yeah, I think you guessed what he did next.

* * *

**Next time on Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Three: Fish of Hell**

_Next time, Jack makes some friends, goes fishing, and has a wonderful time._

…

_Bwahahahaha!

* * *

_

Alas, the section where I thank all the people who reviewed this fic and kept it alive.

**Kairi 7-- **...Okay then... XD But seriously, killing hares is a serious tragedy that deserves to be prevented. Call the following number for more information.

**RandomlyInsaneWhitePony-- **So do I, but that's what SoH is for. Thanks for reviewing!

**kelley28-- **I interrupted a person at work? My goal is slowly becoming reality... Mwahahaha.

**not telling you-- **Yes, fanfic writers love hearing their reviewers talk about boogies. It's fascinating.

**Fushica-- **Yeah, there are more AWL and FoMT fics here at the moment. And I'm always writing about the other ones. XD Thanks for reviewing!


	4. Fish from Hell I

Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland

Chapter Three: Fish from Hell

They were back. Apparently, the trio of gnomes was pissed off about Jack's treatment of them. This time, the immortal beings would not tolerate the farmer contaminating the world anymore.

With ten stab wounds to the back, Jack was on the threshold of death. He dragged his blood-soaked body through the homeland that he was supposed to save (not my finest description, not at all), but none of the villagers were there.

"What the hell do they have to do that's better than saving my life?" he asked, thinking that the inhabitants of this small town would care that he was oozing blood.

By the time he reached the Brownie Farm, he should have been dead. Gwen was brushing the coats of the horses while Bob was spreading fodder in the feed boxes. All the animals were happy. Once Jack staggered into the pasture, they became the horse gang again.

"Gw…Gwen…" he struggled to say, blood dripping from his mouth. "H…h…help…"

"How dare you!" she shouted, oblivious to the fact that the farmer had lost half of the blood in his body. "I thought you were here to help us, but you're just stalling! You haven't even tried to make a decent farm. "I'll never forgive you for this, Jack!"

With that, Jack passed out onto the ground…

* * *

"GYAUGH!"

Jack's breathing was heavy. He expected to be in Hell for his lifetime of perverted thoughts and actions, but was instead found in his farmhouse. Immediately, he saw a girl's face hovering over him.

"Hello Jack," she said. She was somewhat younger than Gwen and Gina, and her hair was a bright orange color. Her clothes were completely pink.

He screamed louder than he did when he was being murdered by Harvest Sprites. "Ack! What are you doing here? Who are you? How do you know who I am? What the hell happened?"

"I'm Katie, age sixteen, and I live at the restaurant-slash-bar-slash-illegal gambling casino," she answered at an incredible speed. "Oops; I said too much."

"But what about the Harvest Sprites?"

"You must have had a nightmare. Either that or you were so damn smashed that you were hallucinating."

"And…Dia's laser beams?"

"Oh, those things," she muttered. "Every time we get a new villager, she just has to scare them off with those damn special effects machines."

"And…the horse gang?"

She approached him, then said, "Don't look them in the eyes. They thirst for blood."

Jack let out a small whimper before poking his head out the window to see if his surroundings were safe. The girl chuckled at his fear and mistrust of all equine animals.

"We learned to tolerate it," Katie told him. "Eventually you'll learn to do so too."

"BUT WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

"You drank too much and passed out. We had to drag you to the farm after you ran into the kitchen and vomited. You ingested so much alcohol that you forgot that it happened…"

"Oh…" Jack sighed in relief. "I thought I had done something idiotic for a second."

* * *

One day later, Jack woke up without having done something idiotic. This time, he was optimistic about living in the village. He skipped merrily into the fields, where he was immediately stopped by the blue haired girl from before.

"Hello, sir," she greeted him. Her face was bandaged and her dress was slightly torn, but her emotions seemed unaltered.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. Dia ordered me to take several pain medications days earlier, and the affects didn't wear off."

"That's…nice…" said Jack, trying to think of some way to ignore the fact that there was a psycho with millions of dollars and extremely antisocial actions pushing people off cliffs. "So… why are you at my farm?"

"I have a question, sir." She waited kindly for him to say if he would hear it.

"Um…what is it?"

"You're from Flowerbud City, right, sir? Do you remember those dresses worn at the Flower Festival, sir?"

Suddenly, Jack's extremely inappropriate memories (if he had any other kind, that is) came back to him. "Yes…" he drooled.

"Can you describe them for me, if that's okay, sir?" Gina asked, taking a ripped up notebook from her dress and flipping it open.

And for two minutes, the young man explained the wardrobe of people from the city to the blue haired girl. She scribbled the last note on her pad and put it back in her dress.

"Thank you very much, sir! I must go back before Dia finds out that I'm gone!"

Jack watched her run off. He sighed and dragged himself back to the Brownie Farm, where he would once again feed the cows and horses. Just to be safe, he left his wallet in his shack. In case one of the horses attacked.

* * *

"Damn…" moaned Jack, staggering home from his job. "Why did I pick a job there when I already own a farm of my own?"

"Hey, Jack," said Gwen as she walked past.

"…Well, that's the best explanation for it," he told himself as he walked home.

Of course, as previous events indicated, the farmer became lost in the forest. Thankfully, Jack managed to get out in a short amount of time and with little if any fire consuming the ecosystem.

The young man groaned as he reached his way out. Nearby, a young man with ridiculously spiky brown hair was chopping lumber with a sharp ax. The buildings there all belonged to the woodcutters. That group consisted of Gwen's grandfather and two unpaid apprentices, one of them being the pointy-haired boy.

After walking a few feet, he saw a boy with a blue bandana wrapped around his head. Had the bandana been of a different color (oh, say… lavender, perhaps?), Jack would have freaked out. The young man was sitting lazily by the river, holding a wooden fishing rod in his right hand.

"Um, aren't you a carpenter?" he asked, causing the other man to tilt his head back. "Should you be…er… practicing carpentry?"

"I'm Joe," he droned, turning back towards the lake. "Fishing is good…"

Jack walked up to him and waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing. Joe was hypnotized.

The only way to end this was to steal the fishing pole from his hand. Knowing that it would take brute force, the farmer decided to dive onto his and try to rip it from his grip. Joe jerked his arm to the right, almost throwing Jack into the air.

"Damn!" the farmer spat, struggling to hold on.

He could always take some advice his father would have given had he been there, but that would involve dirtying the sickle in Jack's rucksack. In this case, "dirtying" could easily be replaced with "cover in splattered blood from Joe's forehead".

For some odd reason, homicide wasn't Jack's number one choice, so he decided to continue flailing around until he wrestled the item out of Joe's hold. He didn't have to fight the fisherman for the wooden pole, but felt a bizarre urge to just to talk to someone.

Perhaps it was to see if anyone else noticed how crazy things were in this place.

"Can't…give…up…" he told himself, knowing that the only person around him was too distracted to hear Jack talking to himself.

With a snap, the fishing rod snapped in two. A few splinters poked into the fisherman's hand, and Jack was flung backwards a few inches, but everyone was basically unharmed.

"Wha…?" was all Joe could say as he was violently snapped out of hypnosis. "Is someone there?"

"That's me," Jack said, although his voice was muffled by the fact that his head was buried in the dirt.

"You must be the new farmer," the other man guessed. "I'm Joe, and I love fishing!"

"I…fucking…guessed…" he answered between long, angry breaths. "Shouldn't you be helping the other woodcutters?"

"Not until my conditions are met," Joe snarled, breaking Jack's impression that he was a nice, lazy young man.

"Conditions?"

"I want a hair-cut like Kurt's!" he demanded.

Jack's jaw dropped, dumbfounded. He was so thunderstruck by the sheer stupidity that he felt the lower half of his head fit the floor.

"…What the hell are you talking about?" ((Hey, can you think of better dialogue?))

"You saw that rat over there, working with his spiky hair! He looks like some anime character while I have to wear this blue bandana in shame…"

Jack stared at the man, before a tear fell from his eye. "I understand. I too suffered like you do… Louis might have invented some way to combat your hair problem. Go there…"

"Thanks!" exclaimed the fisherman, his face full of new confidence. "I guess I can give you my fishing rod in gratitude. You're awesome!"

Joe ran into the distance, leaving his beloved fishing rod at Jack's feet. As he saw the man dash away, a single word escaped Jack's mouth:

"Sucker."

Whistling to himself, he strolled towards the spot where Joe was sitting. Assuming that he could stop quicker than the other boy could, Jack cast the line into the water.

* * *

Dia grumbled as he hiked towards the river. A titanium barrel with a "Caution: Radioactive" sticker slapped on it was on her back. The burden was making it difficult for the girl to walk.

Since she was an evil millionaire, she should have sent Gina or Martha to throw the waste away, but Gina was too weak to bring the barrel there. After all, if the weight of the barrel crushed and killed the maid, someone would easily find the barrel.

And, less importantly, Gina would die a horrible death.

Martha, the old woman, was useless as well. She would most likely mistake a famous politician for a garbage can and throw the contaminated, glowing, acid-filled container at him. Dia did want to get in trouble for the actions of her servant. It wasn't right.

Well, ordering them off cliffs and laughing manically wasn't right either, but to Dia her own safety mattered more.

"Can I leave these here?" she muttered to herself, dumping the barrel onto the ground. Her back was still throbbing in pain, but it was much better now. "Oh, what the hell…"

She kicked the barrel, staining her shoes with gleaming green contaminants. It rolled into the river, splashing a lot of water into the air and sending a dozen fish towards the surface of the water, floating upside-down. The fish that survived drank the poison, which turned their innards green.

"No one will notice," Dia said with a smirk, ignoring the fact the barrel, as well as the bizarre life-forms it spawned, were plainly visible.

* * *

Jack just kept sitting. He used every ounce of determination he had to stay awake. Nothing had happened.

_And Joe became obsessed with doing this HOW?_

His eyelids were about to fall when, suddenly, something pulled on the line. Immediately, he woke up, only to be sucked into a trance.

_FISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISHFISH_

Every ounce of Jack's concentration was on the body of water in front of him. He didn't really like about his actions. Instead, every thought in his mind turned into a fish. Saving the farm? Fish. Ideas to impress Gwen? Fish. Mastery of Socratic irony? Fish.

A long drop of drool fell out of Jack's mouth as he stared into the darkness. The rest of his body was still, except for the hand that was struggling to reel the fish in. That hand was spinning at three-thousand times the speed it takes for an author to come up with a crappy metaphor to compare speeds.

* * *

Gwen walked out of her house, carefully closing the door behind her. She hummed a song about injuring people in extremely graphic ways as she traveled over to the lake. Sitting near the river was a shady figure that she recognized as Joe.

"Hey, Joe, you lazy bastard!" she shouted, despite the fact that she herself didn't have a job. "Quit slacking off!"

He ignored her. She was astonished. Gwen's eyes narrowed as she marched over to him.

"You're lucky I didn't bring an…"

"…axe?"

Before finishing the threat, Gwen had grabbed the man's shoulder, only to find out that it was Jack. She began to tremble.

"Oh no, Joe's got him obsessed with fishing too!" she exclaimed, shaking Jack's shoulder. "Now he'll slack off all the time and let all his animals die!"

Her voice changed from fearful to angry after that statement. "If you let your animals die, I'll kill you! Damn that Joe!"

Jack didn't respond. Tears formed in her purple eyes. Could it be that she cared about him?

"IF YOU SCREW UP YOUR FARM--"

Nope.

* * *

**Next time on Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Four: Fish from Hell Part Two**

…_It's a direct continuation of THIS chapter. What else do you expect me to say?_

* * *

_Yay, it's time for me to thank my reviewers. 'Course, since I've been doing this for the past few chapters, I shouldn't have to introduce this. Ah, whatever._

_**Kairi7--**The number you seek is only in your head, man. You gotta learn what's in your HEART first, man. Word._

_**Avalice-- **Thanks for the review!_

_**look over there its me!-- **looks Accursed internet. I don't where you are... But thanks for reviewing, anyway._

_**Squiz-- **I hope this update was quick enough to keep me alive... I mean... I hope you liked the chapter!_


	5. Fish From Hell II

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Four: Fish from Hell, Part Two (Come on, people, what did you expect?)**

_And the epic conclusion to Fish from Hell is here! Watch as the goddess does stuff! As Gwen acts violent! As Jack acts stupid! As I reference two books, only one of which I actually like!_

"He's a lost cause," sighed the pointy-haired young man, stating it calmly. "Joe's obviously got him to join that crazy hobby of his."

"Jack has to be okay," Gwen said. "Kurt, don't you have any idea how to bring him out of this fishing-induced coma?"

The farmer drooled, as he had been doing for the past two hours, gazing at the water. He continued to struggle with the fish, desperately pulling the line towards him. The expression and position of his face remained unchanged, which, after a while, began to look damned creepy.

"I think we should shoot him," Kurt suggested seriously. Well, at least as seriously as that sentence can be said. He then decided to read a classic piece of literature instead of participating in this tasteless satire.

"Jack, the church is on fire!" (Obviously, you didn't follow Kurt's example.)

That statement would wake up a normal human, but there wasn't even a church nearby. And even if there was a church, Jack was still in a trance. And even if there was a church and Jack wasn't in a trance, he would have (**spoiler**…) suffered the fiery fate of a certain character in the book The Outsiders.

Wait, a spoiler in the narration of a fic? Oh, how the quality slides. During the time period in which the narrator shamelessly debated the writing of this event, nothing of great importance happened. Jack was still fishing while his frantic acquaintance was worrying about him.

"Jack, they're trying to tear down our town!"

That would be a reality if Jack didn't get off his lazy ass and farm. But the addictive nature of fishing blocked the farmer's acknowledgement of the outside world.

She sighed, knowing that there was only one thing that would wake him up. "Why did it have to come to this?" she groaned. "Jack, my shirt fell off…" The blonde tried to make her voice sound as flirty as possible. In reality, she would rather have stabbed Jack. "…can you help me find it…?"

It had no effect (causing people worldwide to gasp in horror), but Kurt dropped his copy of Our Town as soon as he heard Gwen speaking.

"THAT'S IT! THERE IS NO HARVEST GODDESS!"

Unlike the farmer, Gwen never had contact with a supernatural being every single day. In a fit of pure frustration, she grabbed Kurt's saw and through it over the trees and into the forest.

"You do realize that you probably killed a squirrel, right?"

"Shit!" The female smacked her forehead, not even caring that she had actually impaled the very deity she had cursed earlier.

* * *

The goddess's eyes narrowed as blue blood trickled down her face. It eventually evaporated into the lake she slept in every night. 

The purple haired girl swam through an underground portion of the lake at a fast pace. Her anger was completely out-of-character for her, but getting stabbed in the head can do that to someone.

She shot out of the water, spraying large amounts of water into the direction of the carpenters' hut. The goddess immediately fired to large, green rays into the water, hoping that it would send more water at whoever attacked her.

Unfortunately, she merely contaminated the ecosystem more. The fish quintupled in size, about to devour anything in site. The goddess vanished, her normal personality slowly reappearing.

As you could tell from the lack of "HOLYSHITI'MGONNADIE!" and soiled pants, Jack was still in a coma. Gwen thought she could kill the monster easily. Kurt had resumed working, as Gwen would have threatened him if he did otherwise. Perhaps it was about his response to the shirt statement.

"He's lost it." The female sighed. "Oh well, another farmer could pick up the little work he actually did if Jack dies."

She was about to toss him into the mouth of the sea monster and get it over with, but instead changed her mind.

Pushing him into the water would require less strength.

* * *

The Harvest Goddess sat on top of a tree, after completely forgetting the painful incident. She looked down on the lake, only to see a giant glowing fish about to swallow Jack. As easily as she could have pointed and reduced the fish to dust, it would have led to people finding out she existed, leading to bizarre cults. Again. And she'd be _damned _if those Christian fanatics started showering her in holy water. Again. 

She jumped down from the tree, not affected by a fall that would normally kill a person. The goddess managed to pause before she hit the ground. However, if another sharp object was flying at her while she was sleeping, she'd be gushing blood.

So, technically, if a saw had hit her while she was sleeping and the public saw that she wasn't deceased, the cults would still exist. She was thinking of the very same explanation, as Jack was being viciously mauled.

* * *

"Well, how inconvenient." The farmer had regained his consciousness. "I was about to catch a huge fish, and _someone_ had to take away my fishing rod!" 

The fish he was so eager to catch was the monster that had a giant fang imbedded in his leg. Gwen was just watching the whole thing with little emotion.

"GWEN, HELP ME!"

"Well I'll be damned, you're back." She was slightly relieved, but her tone remained somber. "Well, for now; at least until it chews you to bits."

"Just. Fuckin'. Great." Jack's sarcasm does not need to be explained, as any sentient human could detect it. Most humans, anyway. "Couldn't you be doing to something to- I don't know- HELP?"

"Hey, I'm tough, but I'm smart enough to know that no one's dumb enough to save you. Sorry, Jack." She forced an apologetic smile afterward.

But before all hope was lost, the Harvest Goddess ran out. She was disguised as a teenage girl, dressed entirely in black. Surely someone as suicidal as an emo teenager would do something crazy like rescue Jack!

She jumped onto the scaly fish monster and unsheathed a knife. However, that opened up a new problem: would it be more in-character for her to kill the monster heroically or to slit her wrists? Damn the goddess's love of acting!

"Um, are you okay?" Jack asked as he saw the disguised deity scratching the top of her head furiously.

"I'll just stab the stupid thing!" The Harvest Goddess stabbed the beast with the knife, pushing it in with the strength of a fifteen year old girl. The damage inflicted by the tiny blade was the equivalent of being hit by a ball of paper. "Oh, whatever!"

The goddess, obviously fed up with trying to kill the beast by non-divine ways, waved her arms. In an instance, blue-green light enveloped the land and all the hideous freaks of nature were gone—well, okay, Jack was still there.

The farmer plummeted to the dirt, but thankfully landed on his feet. By the time he jerked his head around to see what happened to the girl, almost everyone was gone. Only Gwen was left standing behind him.

"Why did you let that thing try to eat me?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"I assumed that it would be best for the village's economy if your death wasn't delayed," she admitted coldly. "I thought there'd be some way to save my home!"

"By killing ME?" snapped Jack. "What the hell would that accomplish?" _Remember when you decided to work with animals so she'd like you? _The quiet, sane voice in his head reminded him._ Remember that, dumbass?_

The blonde began to walk away. "If you tried to contribute to society, maybe you wouldn't be used as bait so much."

A grin slowly formed. The farmer finally had a clue of how he could gain Gwen's love _without_ screwing up…

…in theory, that is.

* * *

Next time on **Harvest Moon, Doom the Homeland:**

**Chapter Five: (Currently Untitled)**

_Jack buys a chicken. But can his desperate attempts to nurse it back to health succeed? Will he need to rely on some of his friends? Does he have any?__

* * *

_


	6. Chicken ER

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Five: Chicken E.R.**

A smooth blade slashed through a tree trunk in a fraction of a second. It was still for a moment, then collapsed. It wasn't a saw that was used, but rather a sword. The weapon definitely fit with its user's martial arts anime character appearance.

Kurt grinned (if that's believable). Before he could shred it into smaller logs, he was cut off by the sounds of heavy breathing.

In the distance, the new farmer was running towards the carpenters' hut. In his arms, held against his chest like a baby, was a bird—still and lifeless. The sword slid out of Kurt's hand at hit the dirt-covered ground.

"What the heck did you do this time, Jack?" he interrogated him, a slight growl in his voice.

"Chicken…dying…help…" the farmer panted, unable to speak clearly at all.

"How did this start, Jack?" Kurt said. He rolled his eyes, anticipating a peculiar story.

His prediction was definitely ensured.

* * *

'It all started on my farm, around noon, I suppose. I'd been relaxing in the pasture, when it hit me: I don't have any livestock. I decided that it would be time to get some poultry, if I wanted a successful farm—or at least to be able to have a few eggs for breakfast.' 

Jack rose from the grassy field and brushed some dirt from his clothes. At least he attempted to, but only succeeded in spreading it everywhere. Sighing in defeat, he walked down the path towards the farm.

After getting lost (he still found the area confusing as hell), Jack found his way to the Brownie Farm. He pushed the farming shop's two doors open, marching in triumphantly.

'I felt like a god when I went to the farm. Then again, God has all the chickens in the world, and I only have one that's dying as we speak, so I'd better get on with the story.'

"I'm here to buy myself a chicken," Jack bragged, putting emphasis on the word 'chicken'. "You sell animals here?"

"Yeah," Bob said in his tough guy voice. "I've got guys all over the country who deliver

'em all over the world. Hold on a sec'."

The elder rancher got off his chair and went into a nearby closet with 'STAFF ONLY' carved into the door. Through the crack of the door, Jack could make out the forms of a few pandas.

'I saw some pretty weird things in that place, but in fear of the mafia I won't elaborate. I went home with my new chicken—Chi.'

Jack, smiling from ear to ear, strolled out of the building with a chicken under his arm. Along the way, he bragged, "I've got a new chicken!", "Like my _chicken_?", and other various chicken-related announcements to any townspeople that happened to be walking by.

'Of course, not everything was going to work out perfectly. I would find that out later, when I was feeding her.'

The farmer was lying on his stomach on the floor of the chicken coop. Still beaming, he observed the bird intently.

Chi approached her meal—a giant pile of ground up corn that Jack bought several sacks of—and ignored it. Instead, she just took a nap on the ground.

'She wouldn't eat, and before I knew it, she was sick.'

The next morning, Jack woke up to find that he hadn't gone back to his own shack yet. Ignoring that, he instead crawled eagerly, bouncing into the air, to find the benefits of his poultry. His jaw slammed into the wooden floor at his horrific discovery.

'The first sign I noticed was that there was no egg. And I was hungry, too…'

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" he shrieked. "I BLEW ALL MY CASH ON THIS BIRD AND SOME FOOD FOR IT, AND WHAT DO I GET?"

Jack dashed to his chicken, which was still asleep. "Come on, Chi! What's wrong with you? Chi? Chiiiii?"

'I did some very in-depth testing to see if the chicken was okay.'

The testing that Jack spoke of was poking it with his index finger thirty times before picking it up and running outside.

"Darn it!" Jack shouted, scattering many of the nearby birds.

He was running at twice the rate he usually did towards the Brownie Farm. As he traveled through the forest (still not used to the geography), branches cut at his face has he ran through the wild vegetation. He looked down at Chi, carefully monitoring her condition.

'I only had the chicken's health on my mind.'

"Damn, Gwen's gonna freaking slap me—and that's if I'm lucky!" he actually said. "Come on, Chi! Don't die! I don't want to either! Come back to life—it'll be a win-win scenario!"

'I decided that the best place to go would be the farm. Bob raises animals for a living; he'd know how to cure the chicken.'

"BOB!" he shouted, swiftly kicking the doors open. They cracked and fell to pieces.

"Hey!"

"Not now, okay? Chi's dying!"

"Sorry, I sold all the animal medicine to this guy from the city. Says he really likes the taste. Hey, I ain't judging him, as long as he pays for it, so…"

"Enough of your absurd drug dealing stories! How could you sell off all your stock of animal medicine? Shouldn't you have emergency rations?"

"Shouldn't you have prepared for this beforehand?"

Gripping his skull, the inexperienced farmer tore clumps of hair straight out of his head. He shrieked and ran out the door screaming like a lunatic.

"Who was that?" Gwen said after entering from the fields.

"Er--"

Already a few feet away, Jack flung a dart into the window. It sunk into the back of Bob's muscular neck, causing him to collapse onto the floor.

* * *

"So that's it, huh?" Kurt said, stretching after the long explanation. "If you're so afraid of her, why did you go to where she lives? And why did you assume Bob would know what to do when _you're_ a farmer yourself and dumb as a freaking rock?" 

"I dunno," Jack replied with a shrug. "But you've gotta help me!"

"And why would I take the time to save your sorry ass from that woman? Even if I did help you, she'd still get you for letting it get so sick in the first place. Besides, you don't even want to know what she'll do if I try to help you and screw up. It ain't pretty. I've seen it before…"

"Shut up!" the farmer shouted, sending Kurt flinching backwards. "The chicken's dying as we sp…"

"Heard it before…" the other man yawned.

"I don't care! Listen to it again, you bastard! It's dying as we speak, and if Gwen finds out that I came to you for help and you turned me down, expect the same thing I get! Ya got that?"

The carpenter blinked twice. "Yes…" he said in a timid voice.

"Good!" Jack said, backing away. "Now give me a phone book!"

"Do we even have them in this village?" Kurt pondered. "Let me check…"

He ran into the house. Jack stood outside, tapping his foot impatiently. The chicken in his arms showed no signs of improvement.

"Come on, already!" Jack shouted. "We need to find a vet!"

"Says here that there's a chicken hospital over in New Flowerbud City!" called Kurt.

"There's a _New_ Flowerbud? Just how long have I been gone?"

"Well, you seem to have spent forever complaining about your chicken!"

"Shut up, already!"

* * *

Jack and Kurt sat in a small canoe, rowing at a slow pace. The latter turned his head to see where the land mass was. 

"We should reach the city in ten or so minutes," he said. Jack sighed in relief. "You know, Jack, you're lucky that they set up a city so close to here. The original Flowerbud City was miles away."

"Yeah… Hey, on the topic, what is the name of our village, anyway?"

"Well--"

Suddenly, a rather large boat sped past, causing a loud splashing sound to fill the air.

"Got it! 'The Homeland' it is!"

"You weren't frickin' listening to me, were you?"

"Not really."

"Well, that boat sent us towards the land a good distance. We won't have to travel the full ten minutes after all. Which is good, because I can't _stand_ talking to you."

Two minutes later, the two hopped off the boat. Jack carried the chicken (although he hadn't put it down all day), while Kurt held some directions that he scribbled on some scrap paper.

The woodcutter lifted the paper to his eyes and then pointed forward. Jack stared in the direction where Kurt's finger was.

"See that building shaped like an egg?"

"That giant eyesore?" Jack said. "Who couldn't?"

"Good. The building across the street from it is the chicken hospital."

"But--"

"Don't question it."

They walked into the building. By the time, they had grown accustomed to being around a half-dead bird. Immediately, the people noticed.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed a balding man. "We have a code fourteen!"

"No way!" exclaimed a teenage boy, who promptly ran from behind the counter to see Jack and Kurt. "This never happens!"

"I've prepared you for this, boy," the older man said. He turned to Jack. "Thank you very much!" he said with a large smile.

"Where the hell did you take us, Kurt?" Jack whispered in an annoyed tone.

"We'll need to clean the bird first," the balding man said, tossing the bird to the teen. The teen promptly scrubbed it in a sink.

"Is he allowed to throw the birds around like that?" Jack whispered to Kurt, who shrugged in response.

"Then we stick it in this here oven…"

"WHAT THE HELL?" snapped Jack, who immediately pounced on the teenager. "What the hell kind of animal hospital is this?"

"Well, it was a chicken hospital, but the doctors were so terrible that they all died. We seized the opportunity, and…"

"My chicken was still alive!" the farmer shouted.

"With no pulse?"

Everyone froze. Finally, Kurt spoke up. "Jack…you never checked for a pulse, did you?"

"…No."

"And you never told Gwen you bought a chicken, did you?"

"…No."

"And so there's NO FREAKING REASON FOR ME TO BE WASTING MY TIME HELPING YOU!"

Kurt leapt onto Jack, teeth bared. He began to found his enemy's face into the tiles with his fists.

The farmer's mouth dripped with some blood. He spat it out and rose to his feet, delivering a kick directly into Kurt's jaw. Jack was about to win, and after this he could return to the village without the competition for Gwen's love (Kurt was a threat--he was too ridiculously good looking) and live a happy life.

Unfortunately, the restaurant owner took pity on Jack. After all, he didn't know that he was donating his bird to be eaten, so the owner gave placed the meal in Jack's hands.

That was the same time that Gwen entered the room, after being tipped off by Bob that Jack's chicken was sick. She froze when she saw the chicken in his hands.

"MEAT IS MURDER!" she yelled, picking up an employee and tossing him directly into Jack's face. Blood sprayed from Jack's nose, violating the health code.

Jack, sprawled on the ground, looked up at the woman. "I'm sorry, I swear it. I had no idea what was going on. Please, find it in your heart to leave me alone. Please?"

He saw the glint of a knife.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_**GAH! **So long without an update—sorry, guys! I know how stupid it was thatI used the old "some-building-that-used-to-be-something-but-isn't-now" cliche. Bah.This chapter has a lot of in-jokes in it, so I'll explain them:_

_The title—A parody of a show I saw once called "Venom E.R.", a medical reality show about NOTHING BUT POISONOUS STINGS. It's just too damn specific. Mix it up a bit, no?_

_Chi—In HM 64, I had a chicken named Chi. I was young at the time, and it ended up dying. In STH, I named a chicken Chi 2 as a memorial. It got sick the first day I had him, hence the plot of this chapter._

_Anyway, recently I haven't been as enthusiastic with this fic like I have with my others (except for the dead one…), so I've decided to take the fic in a new direction. Since the beginning, I've intended to make this a parody. The prologue was, and in the beginning it was too, but it became to random (yes, even for me) and not as funny as I thought it could be. Therefore, from now on, Doom the Homeland will become a parody of many different things—anime, books, genres, other crap… Next chapter will be…dum-dum-dum… An overly angsty Harvest Moon fic! _

_Yes, I –can- hear you screaming from over here in New Jersey. Oh, that beautiful sound of terror._

**Next time, on Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Six: Why?**

_Returning solemnly to the city on a small canoe gave Jack time to think. What was the point? He spent all that time over something so trivial as a chicken, always assuming that it would stay okay long enough for him to reach the animal hospital. Then he met a razor-sharp blade. He grimaced as he remembered how easily it slid into his flesh…_


	7. Angst, Hilarity, and Carnage

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Six: Why?**

The ore dug into the water in a boring pattern. The sole passenger on the boat moved it with his arms. Deep cuts circled both of them, some of which extended all the way to his chest. A few unconnected scratches spread across his cheeks and a small one across his forehead.

Birds circled overhead; they were probably vultures. He felt like he was dying, despite the fact that he had escaped with his life. But he was covered in blood, and his clothes were still soaked in it.

What was the point? He spent all that time over something so trivial as a chicken, always assuming that it would stay okay long enough for him to reach the animal hospital. Then he met the blade that did all of this to him, and in the hands of someone he actually cared for. He grimaced as he remembered how easily it slid into his flesh, creating a pool of blood on the floors.

"DAMN!" He broke the silence. By that time, Jack was no longer moving the boat, and just sat and looked up into the sky. Was farming really more complex than he had originally thought? Was it more than just some repetitive nuisance that he did to make some poor sum of money? Had he actually deserved what had happened for his failure?

There were so many questions, and Jack would most likely never find the answer. Before that could have the chance to occur, another blade would pierce Jack's chest…one that rested in his own two hands. It was just too complicated for him to even attempt to understand the world.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE?" he called out, and it echoed for just above forty times before fading away. "You know what—damn it all. I don't care anymore."

He sighed in defeat and looked at the scars all over his arms. Why wasn't it like the muggings back in the city that left him so alone and helpless as a child. The physical pain from this should have been much worse, yet his response was apathy at the world around him. Had he grown accustomed to it? Was he almost up to the point where he could take a bullet to the face and get up within a few seconds? Wouldn't that kill him anyway, even if he didn't feel it, because his brain would be penetrated by a bullet moving at dozens of miles per hour? He ignored the last question.

Glaring at the sky, Jack smiled with malevolence. His life was no longer restricted by the fear of death. He was immortal. No one else in the village could possibly understand him, and he didn't need for them to do so. In fact, none of their insignificant minds would be able to comprehend his sudden realization.

All he needed was a river of blood as compensation for his pain.

No one in the village trusted him, except maybe for Gina. Slowly, Jack began to pick broken bits of Gwen's knife out of his skin, placing them all in a neat pile that eventually covered the entire bottom of the boat. Shit, is that even possible? Yet another question to plague Jack.

"Damn the questions, damn these bits of knife, and damn physics!" Jack cursed. None if those inorganic things had the right to mess with someone as powerful as he was. He was so immune to pain, he shaped new knives out of the points of old ones. He raised one towards the sun. It was coated in the blood he expelled while making it, ironically enough. "And damn the unnamed homeland!"

**ACT II: Hilarity Ensues, in the Form of Carnage**

Kurt pulled back and forth on the saw into the bark of the tree. Suddenly, he heard something whirling in the wind, but thought nothing of it until a sharp edge poked out of the tree.

"Joe?" he said. "Oh, so now you've decided to come to work, you lazy bastard!"

Kurt walked in front of the tree, preparing to beat Joe over the head, when he froze. There was no one there.

"Just great, Joe! You're not supposed to toss the axe at the tree, and I was taking care of… Wait, is that a…"

The axe slipped from his shaking hand and into the grass. There was something wrong, and not just how the blade got there.

No one cut wood with a sickle.

Almost instantly, sweat dripped from all over his body. It was impossible to stand even remotely still. Kurt kept trying to convince himself that it was only exhaustion that made the sickle appear embedded in the tree that was once only centimeters away from his head. He had been working for at least four hours, and maybe that was messing with his mind.

He would soon be disproved.

"Wh…who's there?" he asked, despite the fact that he would be terrified by a response.

A leaf fell on Kurt's head. It was impaled by his spiky hair. The combination of the leaf and a slight rustling sound only added to the fear.

"Don't act like that, Joe. I know you, but this is going too far even by your standards. Cut it out, or I'll have to--"

"Order Gwen to have me killed?" a sinister voice mocked. Kurt's eyes bulged.

"It's not…" His voice faded away in shock, but if he'd continued he would have been abruptly cut off.

In a single graceful motion, Jack let himself fall from the tree. Landing on his left foot, he swung the right directly into Kurt's neck, smacking him into the ground. Ominous music played as the farmer slowly approached the man he had struck.

"W…w…what did I d…"

"You know what you goddamn did," the assailant sneered.

Behind his messy brown hair, Jack's eyes seemed to flash red. Sunlight reflected off Jack's hand, hitting Kurt in the pupils of his eyes. Before Kurt could claim that it wasn't what he thought it was, he silenced himself by agreeing that being quiet might stop Jack from stabbing him in the face.

"I trusted you…" Jack said.

Kurt would have smacked himself in the face at the moment. If he'd only been a good person and helped Jack, maybe he would have been spared when Jack finally snapped and went on a killing spree. It was all too late now.

The farmer lifted Kurt by his left arm, pulling him almost to his feet. He jabbed the knife into the back of his head, only to have Kurt's pointy hair slice the knife in two. Annoyed, he jammed what was left into the woodcutter's back and kicked him aside.

"If helping me was such a waste of time, why did the consequence do this to me?" he shouted, fully aware that his enemy was dead, while showing his scars. "I only did to you what Gwen would have if you'd been a man and faced what you did!"

Showing no remorse, he trampled Kurt and proceeded to walk into town. He tossed the knife into the forest (landing in a hiker) and took one that was in good condition from his rucksack.

Dia was sitting on the sofa in her mansion, staring out one of the fancy windows. She didn't suspect a thing.

**Cliff-hanger! Of course, authors who end chapters by announcing ZOMGCLIFFHANGER deserve to be thrown off a cliff, or hung. Needless to say, I won't make it to the next chapter... But keep reading anyway.**


	8. Psycho with a Sickle

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Seven: Psycho with a Sickle**

**Unintentionally Made Part of "Greenfrie's 666 Spectacular!" (Thanks to lazy updating)**

_Okay, I'll admit, this was just SO OMFG-Apocalypse-esque that I had to include it in my "special" 666 update. Check out the other 666 fics in my profile._

Dia flipped through a magazine, completely oblivious to the murderer outside. Suddenly, her elderly maid burst into the room, breathing heavily. Her wide eyes displayed absolute terror.

"What is it this time?" the rich girl sighed, not bothering to look up.

"It's Kurt—he's been found stabbed to death with the knife still in his body!" Martha announced. Dia was uninterested.

"That's it?" Dia moaned. "Who was he again? The weasel that lived in the trees? One of those wild dogs that the idiot farmer's trying to tame?"

"He was a carpenter, madam," the maid confirmed.

"Whatever. I can only hope that some of the other idiots meet the same fate."

Idiot farmer. Idiot farmer. Idiot farmer.

Who was she to call him that?

This had triggered the emo character's primary instinct: kill anyone who angers you.

Jack was perched on the roof, hammer in hand. He'd never used it for farming. And, chances were now that he never would. Not with his transformation.

The hammer crashed into the roof, sending Dia's face directly upward. Bits of tile fell onto the carpet. Her eyes narrowed. There was only one person in the town foolish enough to do this. And it had to be him. Even the rules of nature would bend in fear of her, or at least she believed.

But she was wrong. Jack's vengeance was nothing that could be considered the work of a human. He knew it. With the carnage he would cause, it would be considered an act of God, or Satan, or Elvis. Someone in the top three. Top four, now that he'd come along.

After the barrage carried on for an entire minute, the blows growing stronger with each attack, he broke through the roof and into Dia's living room. He looked deranged, which was fitting, considering that he'd just killed a man.

"What did you do to my roof?"

Jack wouldn't waste his energy talking to a mere mortal. He raised the hanner, dented and falling apart. He was breathing heavily, which would strike fear into the heart of anyone but the wealthy girl.

She roared and ran towards him. He casually swung the giant mallet into her stomach, then rubbed his face to get clean off the blood.

* * *

Jack spent the rest of the day killing anyone who so much as didn't say 'hi' to him on a regular basis, because that hurt is self esteem, much like how a hammer to the face hurts someone in other ways.

Eventually, he came across Gina, who was walking around as if nothing had happened. As the village was so behind other locations as far as technology goes, news spread slowly. Not to mention the fact that there weren't many people around to tell the news.

"Hi, Jack!" she said, not her usual, shy self. After all, she could definitely trust Jack, her childhood pal, even though he was carrying a mallet that looked like it had been used to bludgeon everyone in town to death. Oh, young people these days.

The farmer, who had recently begun foaming at the mouth, stared at the girl's innocent eyes. Then, for once since he'd grabbed a weapon and started ruthlessly murdering everyone in sight, he felt somewhat sad. Jack began to debate whether or not to commit the crime, when he decided to make the choice by drawing his paperback copy of Darth Vader's Guide to Homicide. The excerpt read:

_If you find yourself completely turning away from your old self and why you started committing atrocious acts of violence in the first place, **that's normal. And GOOD. **Remember, you're no longer a human, even though you walk, talk, breathe, and function in many ways like one. Unless you're foaming at the mouth; then you're damned creepy. So you can't 'think' anymore. Go along with it, kill that son of a bitch! He's probably asking for it. After all, think of how good it turned out for me?_

Not one to question a fictional character's advice, Jack swung his hammer. But as much as he thought he was a god, he had grown tired, and the fatigue dropped him to the ground before the hammer moved an inch.

* * *

When he finally regained consciousness, Gwen and Gina were hovering over him. They seemed to be in the carpenters' cabins. At his side was soup and water to help him regain his strength. Tears formed in Jack's eyes.

"You did all this…for…me?"

"Yeah, but don't get used to it," Gwen said somewhat less harshly than everything else she says. "But, yeah. There's vegetable soup over there, since chicken soup is murder."

"…I really don't know what to say, except--" he finished the sentence on swing of the axe later, "—this is murder, too."

The farmer ran out of the bed, leaving behind the axe. He'd lost all traces of humanity, as horror-fic characters tend to do.

And because of that, he laughed manically as he ran into the forest. There wasn't a single human being left in the village. The Harvest Sprites were gone; they had been especially fun to kill in a sadistic bastardization of "Whack-a-Mole".

But now that Jack could rest in the seclusion of the forest, he could focus on bigger fish; specifically, the Harvest Goddess. He needed to prove that he was greater than any human. The effortlessness that he depopulated the area with proved it somewhat, but destroying the local deity would definitely brand it into the minds of all humanity.

He saw a bit of her green hair sticking up from under the pond, so he immediately slammed the mallet through her skull. Unfortunately, since we all know that only _sharp_ objects can kill her, she shook it of and obliterated Jack instantly.


	9. Awakening

**Harvest Moon: Doom the Homeland**

**Chapter Eight: Awakening**

It felt so odd. He'd lived in the remote village for a month, yet he felt unwelcome. Not as if the people hated him, which he'd made peace with (by killing them), but like he was supposed to be elsewhere. As if the entire world had rejected him.

Maybe it was the sight of his fried body that sent this feeling into him, telling him he was dead, forced to move on to another realm. Maybe it was because he acted like an asshole and massacred the whole place.

Either way, Jack was dead, left to find a path to the afterlife. Normally in this type of situation, an angel would descend to him and guide him away, or a demon would snatch him and cram his body through a hole into the underworld.

But, as convenient as being killed can be, the Harvest Goddess was the one who smashed him to bits only seconds before, so all he had to do was turn his transparent head around to see her.

"Jack…" she said, her sad voice echoing through the spiritual plane. The goddess shook her head in a severe disappointment that cannot be properly put into words without being understated. "How could you have fallen so far? You were once the nice, somewhat insane young farmer that brought joy to… some people. Now look at you."

It was as if his awakening the moment after his death had restored his former perspective. But it was too late now. Everything was annihilated. His head dropped toward the ground in shame.

"…I…" He had planned nothing to say before muttering that, and just froze. "How can I…?"

His emotions were understood. The purple haired woman just nodded.

"As local goddess, I shall intervene with nature and restore the land to its previous state," she stated. "All will be well. I trust you shall learn from this."

"AWESOME!" the farmer shouted, completely destroying the somber tone. "I've got another chance at making them not hate me!"

Despite his disrespectful shouting, the Harvest goddess merely smiled and waved a hand. But before time could be reversed, a series of tiny, pointy rocks struck her.

Protestors.

Letting out a small cry, she lifted her bleeding head to see a group of people holding buckets full of more projectiles. They stood unreachable on the hills hidden in the forest's wildlife. She wouldn't tolerate that.

"What was that about!" she snapped.

"See, your false idol is so quick to anger!" their leader, an older woman, shouted.

"Because you're tossing your damn rocks at me!" the goddess countered. "And why are you interrupting me when I'm trying to resurrect people here?"

"We, the Church Group of New Flowerbud, are sickened by this fanfiction's portrayal of the Harvest Goddess! Quite frankly, you're breaking the unwritten law of the world: the Harvest Goddess wants to kill everyone and only the true God can save them. Therefore, our god must be mentioned in fanfiction in which he isn't even relevant. Because we say so."

"…What?" the dumbstruck goddess managed to say.

"You heard me, demon!" When she finished shrieking, she turned to Jack. "Lad, you've made a terrible mistake."

"I know!" Jack exclaimed, his voice deteriorating into a sob. "I'm a murderer! Murderer!"

"No! You worship the wrong god!"

"…oh."

"By not cramming our religion down the throats of your fanfic's audience, you've violated the laws of nature. But never fear; there is a way out!"

"…How?"

The group's leader jumped out of her safe location buried in the trees. After stumbling through everything, she emerged, bruised.

The woman flung a book at Jack, which he barely caught. She commanded him to read chapter thirteen, verse 8, word 3, and onward. It read:

…_plane. One must cherish thy lord, the Divine Qxtsazk. To do this, one must partake in tasks in his honor, such as dressing up as him and using his magical garments to give you immense powers to spread the faith, or simply being kind to others._

"So that means I should be good to others to atone for my horrible actions?" Jack reasoned.

"Hell no! You have to go back in time and convert the village to prevent the goddess's rise to power!"

"I doubt a god would give us such specific rules to abide by."

"DO IT."

"Yes'm," Jack whimpered, shakily snatching a box from her arms.

Opening the box as fast as he could to get everything over with, he found a jet black robe with ridiculous, glowing orbs sticking out of it. Shuddering, he slipped it on over his overalls. He liked it better when he was killing all his friends.

He examined his sleeves to find a series of buttons.

"For time travel?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I really don't--"

"You'll go to Hell."

"I killed like a zillion people and I've been forgiven. I doubt something so trivial--"

A stone sharpened to the point of becoming a knife struck the tree beside him, instantly convincing him to do as they said. He vanished into a colorful flash as quickly as possible—anything to get away from these weirdoes.

But the second he landed into his destination, he was filled with mixed emotions. For one thing, a lightning strike at that moment had struck down a tree that nearly crushed his legs. And, as if this wasn't bad enough, science fiction had struck caution into his mind. What if he couldn't do a thing? What if the predestination paradox meant that he already felt the consequences of time travel, and that nothing he could do would help. But there was the possibility of divergent timelines, allowing him to change time and get those lousy bums off his back once and for all.

Frustrated by the situation, she slumped angrily against the fallen tree. They'd stranded him correct-God-knows-how-many decades into the past with a magical suit with no instructions. He'd probably end up killing a relative and himself in the process of just trying to get everyone to worship some crazy religion.

"Who the hell is Qxtsazk, anyway? And why did I remember his name exactly, despite it being the weirdest thing ever spoken?"

Eventually, he noticed that he was now dressed in a more futuristic looking, horrifically bright orange, robotic suit. It must have materialized when he said "Qxtshazam" or whatever it was. They would kill him for this.

_Wait a minute_! Oh, _shit_! He was a ghost! A spirit! That psychotic church group couldn't do a think to him! And they had to do all this the second the goddess was gonna set everything right again, too.

Now he was a ghost inside a robotic suit that seemed to blend with ectoplasm. This may make him look like at least _some_ kind of deity, regardless of how badly he stuck out, even in a tale this odd.

He found his way through the forest and into his grandfather's farm, where he found the old man alive and well as a healthy, young man. When the elder took his eyes of the young corn plant before him, he stumbled backwards.

"Who are you?" he shouted. "Crazy summa bitch, dressin' up like yer outta one of them comic books!"

"I," he paused dramatically, "am Qxtsazk."

"Hah!" laughed his ancestor. "And I'm Mr. Goddamn Mxyzptlk!"

"I'm serious! I've traveled back in time--"

"—from the fifth dimension?"

"WILL YOU STOP THAT?" Jack snapped, before regaining his calm, superior attitude. Pretending to be a god was fun. "You must worship me as your ruler, and in turn, you will receive…" He stopped, unaware of what some crazy cult's version of a god would propose. "Free Kool-Aid!"

"An' what's that? Some aliens helpin' me wit' the farm?"

Darn! He'd forgotten that his grandfather lived his whole life secluded on an island somewhere in the God-knows-where Ocean. "An easily poisoned beverage!"

"Why'd we want that?"

Damn! Jack had to think of something else, and fast. "Look, I'll give you all cool jackets when you die. Just worship me and tell your friends, too. Okay?"

"Aw, why not," his grandfather gave in. "My overalls're gettin' old."

"Pleasure doin' business with you."

Jack walked off back toward where he came from. All according to plan. And by 'plan', he meant 'crazy task I was forced to do in fear of a cult that would never leave me the hell alone'. Once he was safely hidden away in the trees, he departed back to his new home—the new timeline.

As a lifetime of events passed by as if they were nothing at all, he thought of the absurdity of this task. Converting one obscure tiny village to some obscure religion wasn't going to have any effect. This was just one big waste of his time.

But in the new timeline, the group wouldn't have stopped the goddess from forgiving Jack and resetting everything, so he'd be back in human form when he got there. A fresh start. And everything would be back to normal, sans the killing spree.

When he was thrust out of the world between time and into a rotting, decaying, dark, crime-filled dystopia, he had to wonder what part of fixing everything failed to work out.


End file.
